Stuck On You
by Lady Dudley
Summary: Follow on to 'Love Is Red, Heartache Is Blue.' Sherlock can't get Molly off his mind.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: After writing 'Love Is Red, Heartache Is Blue' this little idea wouldn't leave me alone - namely that Sherlock and Molly would realise they'd swapped coffee orders (see Chapter 2) and Sherlock daydreaming about Molly. Anyways, hope you enjoy! x**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

_**Stuck On You**_

Molly was cooking again.

He smiled as the smell of the biscuits she was baking drifted to where he was lying on the couch.

His smile widened as he realised she was making her famous brown sugar, macadamia and white chocolate cookies; his favourite.

"What are you smiling about?"

Sherlock's eyes snapped open and he looked over at John in surprise; the smells and sounds of Molly baking disappearing.

"Nothing, just thinking about the case," he said dismissively, sitting up.

"O-k," John said slowly, disbelief written all over his face.

"I think we need to go to St Bart's," he said decisively, stepping over the coffee table to get passed John.

"What? Why?" John demanded, scrambling out of his seat and grabbing his jacket to follow Sherlock.

"An experiment, it will clear my head," Sherlock replied, signalling for a cab.

"I thought you had a break through?"

"Whatever gave you that idea?" Sherlock asked, opening the door and getting inside the cab.

John mimed strangling him before getting in after him.

"So, you're not going to tell me what this is all about?" John clarified breaking the silence.

"Nothing to tell," Sherlock replied in a bored tone, looking out the window and absently tapping out a tune on the armrest of the door.

"You've been acting strangely ever since you got back," John glanced at him, "well, strange for you," he amended.

Sherlock chose to ignore his comment and continued absently tapping on the armrest, he stopped when he realised the tune he was tapping was 'Stuck On You.'

He needed to see Molly.

It had been easy to dismiss the discovery that she had invaded his Mind Palace when he was 'dead,' but it was almost impossible now that he was back.

He knew that he had to face the discovery sooner or later, but the dreams – dreams that were becoming increasingly domestic and…fluffy – were forcing his hand before he was ready.

Something had to be done.

He spent the rest of the drive puzzling over what he was going to say when he saw her, imaging different scenarios and trying to decide on the outcome he wanted.

They reached St Bart's faster than he was anticipating, which was the only explanation he could come up with for the way his mind went blank as they turned the corner and came face to face with Molly.

She smiled up at him and he realised it was all very simple really: he just wanted her.


	2. Chapter 2

Molly's face broke into an unconscious grin as she rounded the corner to come face to face with Sherlock and John. Sometimes she wondered whether she would ever get over her joy at having him back in her life.

Her smile reflected in his eyes and she had to remind herself to breathe, "I was just on my way to get a coffee, would you like some?" she asked.

"Coffee would be great, thanks Molly," John told her with a smile, shooting a curious glance at his silent companion.

"We'll be in the morgue," Sherlock added as they continued on their way, she nodded in acknowledgement as she hurried off, missing him turn slightly to watch her go.

A few minutes later, Molly returned to the morgue to find John sitting off to the side, absently texting someone, whilst Sherlock worked on the microscope.

After handing John his coffee, Molly carefully placed Sherlock's within arm's reach and moved to take her own back to her desk. John stopped her with a hand on her elbow.

"You'd better swap them before he notices," John whispered to her.

Molly's brow creased in confusion, until she looked down at the mug in her hand and realised what she'd done.

"I didn't-it…I-" she stammered, looking back desperately to the mug in question.

"What are you two whispering about?" Sherlock huffed, turning away from the microscope and picking up his coffee, "It's distracting."

"Obviously," John quipped, "you're coffee's wrong and you didn't even notice," he continued, shooting Molly an apologetic look but deeming it better Sherlock knew _before_ he took a sip.

Sherlock froze with the mug halfway to his mouth and looked down: _white, no sugar_. His eyes flicked up to Molly, who had turned pink and was chewing her bottom lip as she looked down at her own mug with a hint of guilt. He knew without even looking what she held in her hands: _black, two sugars._

She looked up and their eyes met.

He resisted the urge to look away, knowing that she would be able to see as easily through him as he could her. When Molly's eyes widened he knew she'd figured it out.

John cleared his throat, breaking the moment, "It's a coffee order, it's not like it's the end of the world," he told them. When neither of them moved, John sighed and swapped the mugs over himself. "There, see? It never happened," he said, returning to his seat and picking up his phone.

Despite being grateful in this instance, Sherlock couldn't help being a little amused that John had once again _seen_ without _observing_. He and Molly hadn't noticed that they had the wrong drinks not because they were distracted, but because they had both gotten used to drinking the other's preference.

He shared an amused look with Molly, silently saluting her with his coffee. She bit back a nervous giggle, looking a little unsure of herself, as she did the same before continuing on her way to her desk.

Sherlock took a sip of his coffee as he watched her leave; yes, he decided, he definitely needed to talk to her.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This chapter was really hard to write, so I hope it's believable! x**

John was bored, when Sherlock had charged off with a sudden urge to conduct an experiment he hadn't realised that it would end up taking so long.

Molly had remained sequestered in her office ever since the coffee incident and John was starting to get the impression that Sherlock was determined to stay where he was until she resurfaced.

Well, not on his watch; he felt bad enough having brought the coffee incident to Sherlock's attention, he wasn't going to leave her alone with him now.

Even if that meant he was stuck here, he sighed heavily.

"If you want to go John, don't let me keep you," Sherlock told him absently, placing another slide under the microscope.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing, Sherlock," John warned him, Sherlock looked up with mild interest, "I'm not going to let you torture poor Molly, I'm staying put."

Sherlock made a noise somewhere between derision and exasperation, "I have no plans to _torture_ Molly," he replied, turning back to his microscope.

"Please, when do you ever do otherwise?" John said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat. "Don't you think the poor girl's been through enough without you leading her on?" he added.

Sherlock glared into the microscope, "I'm not leading her on," he muttered.

John snorted, "Right, of course," he sighed, "I forgot, it's sentiment, you wouldn't understand," he added. "Look, Sherlock, I like Molly, ok? I don't want to see her get hurt," he told him levelly.

Sherlock took a steadying breath before turning to face John, "I don't want to hurt her, John," he said calmly, "but I need to talk to her," he said simply, turning back to the microscope.

"Why?" John demanded.

"Because she _invaded_ my Mind Palace," Sherlock spat, "I can't get her out of my head and I'm not entirely sure that I want to," he continued at John's dumbfounded silence. He looked up, "Satisfied?" he asked.

"That was…unexpected," John said finally.

Sherlock gave a noncommittal 'hmm' as he turned back to the microscope.

"So…I guess I should leave then?" John asked, looking like he was in shock.

"I would prefer to be without an audience in this instance, yes," Sherlock agreed, not looking up.

"Right, um, good luck," John said, casting one more confounded look in Sherlock's direction before slipping into his coat and leaving.

"I don't need luck," Sherlock mumbled to himself, "I need my mind back."

"Talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity," Molly said quietly, startling him from his thoughts. He looked up to find her looking apprehensive, "Where's John?" she asked.

"I sent him home," Sherlock replied.

"Oh," she said softly, fidgeting, "um, did you need anything?" she asked finally.

Sherlock cocked his head to the side, "Do I torture you?" he asked, intrigued.

Molly's eyes snapped to his face, "What?" she spluttered, "No-you…no, you don't torture me."

He pursed his lips, "But I have hurt you?" he clarified.

"Yes," she admitted in a small voice.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely, she eyed him warily.

She shrugged a shoulder, "It doesn't matter, you haven't…not since, well…"

"Christmas."

"Yes."

An awkward silence descended as Sherlock tried to think of what to say next and Molly examined her shoes.

"Are you sure I can't get you anything?" she asked finally, breaking the silence and looking back up at him.

He took a deep breath, "No thank you, I have everything I need right here," he told her, attempting to give her a meaningful look.

A look that appeared to have been completely lost on her as she rocked back on her heels looking like she felt out of place.

"I'm sorry about the coffee," she said in a rush, surprising him, she bit her lip, "I, um…"

"Now take your coffee black with two sugars?" he supplied, raising an eyebrow.

She nodded mutely, avoiding his eyes.

"Intriguing," he said, watching her carefully now, "because I now take mine white with no sugar."

She looked up at him, searching for signs that he was mocking her; she found none.

"Ask me why," he pressed, "I know you want to know," he paused, "you've wanted to ask ever since it happened."

"Why?" she asked, holding his gaze steadily.

"Because it reminded me of you," he said simply, "it was sentimental and dull, but the simple truth is…I missed you."

Molly looked shocked and she reached out to hold onto the bench for support, "You missed _me_?"

He nodded, standing slowly so that he wouldn't startle her, "Yes."

He moved so that he towered over her; she trembled slightly and her grip on the bench tightened, but she continued to hold his gaze. "I didn't want to miss you, in fact, I tried very hard to put you out of my mind," he continued seriously.

She found her voice, "But you didn't."

"But I _couldn't_," he corrected her, "you slipped passed all my defences and conquered my Mind Palace, conquered _me_, without my even realising it. I love you," he confessed.

Molly opened her mouth to reply but no sound came out, closing her mouth she stared up at him hopelessly.

He smirked, "You're staring," he teased lightly, shifting closer to her and brushing a lock of hair off her face, making her blush. "I'm not romantic, Molly," he continued, his voice becoming serious once more, "I can't promise you roses and candlelight," his eyes bore into hers, "but you know all that I am and I offer that to you."

"I…I…"

"Just breathe, Molly," he instructed her gently, resting his hands lightly on her shoulders.

She closed her eyes and obeyed his instructions, feeling calm once more she opened her eyes. "Do you mean it?" she asked finally, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

Sherlock knew that he deserved her doubt, but that didn't mean he didn't feel a little stab of pain at her words. "Every word," he promised.

She smiled shyly, "Well, then, I accept your surrender."

He fought off a smirk, "Excellent metaphorical extrapolation," he complimented her.

"Sherlock," she said, attempting to look stern, "just shut up and kiss me."

It was Sherlock's turn to gape at her, momentarily taken aback by her tone – where had his timid Molly gone? – before he closed the distance and kissed her.

He smiled as she melted against him; finally she truly was _his_ Molly.


End file.
